


Under Pressure

by Dantron



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Codependency, Cute Dogs, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Multi, SDV, Sassy Harvey, Shyness, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Too Much Drinking, idontknowwhatimdoing, makingthisupasigoalong, maybethisisokay, stardewvalley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dantron/pseuds/Dantron
Summary: When Mabel moved to Pelican Town, she was happy living her small life, close with only the town's curator, Gunther, and Linus and the Guild Guys.A straight line is the shortest route between two points, but she'd always had a terrible sense of direction....Gunther & Co take it upon themselves to help Mabel out of her shell and as a result she ends up with an unexpected roommate...





	1. Old Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hi there! This is my very first ever stab at fanfic. Be nice, plz?  
> Comments make the world go 'round and kudos make me smile.  
> Let me know what you think and if I should even bother continuing, thx!

The heavy wooden door pushed open with a quiet whoosh and the musky scent of paper and leather and ink and just the faintest trace of orange-scented wood polish filled her nostrils. Mabel blinked as she entered the building, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. “Hey Gunther,” she said as quietly as possible. This was technically a museum, but also a library, so talking should be kept to a minimum right? Not that you couldn’t talk in a museum, but libraries were meant to be quiet and it seemed like the more stringent rules should be the ones to apply. She didn’t know, but it seemed like it was right. 

Gunther was sitting behind the counter, a thick journal open face up on the desk in front of him. “Oh, good morning, Mabel!” He placed a scrap of paper in the open page, then closed it, smiling. Mabel glanced at the cover. Even upside down she immediately recognized it as the latest volume of The Academic Journal for Paleolithic Studies. She smiled back, “So, research? Find anything good?” Gunther gave a small shrug. “I just got this in yesterday, haven’t had much time to look through it yet, but I think there’s at least one article that could be helpful- apparently some spear points were found in Gotoro and they’re very similar to what we have here in Ferngill. If that’s true it could mean small populations were migratory in this area much earlier than anyone has suspected!” His eyes were bright with excitement as he talked and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own, waving and gesturing. Mabel’s lips twisted, wavering between a smile and scowl. “Gunther,” she chided, “shhhh!” The older man raised an eyebrow and gave a quiet bark of laughter. “Oh, Mabel, there’s no one in here but you and I. Lighten up,” and he laughed again. She scowled at this blatant disregard for propriety and rolled her eyes, “And you call yourself a curator, hmmph.” 

Unperturbed, Gunther nodded at the canvas bag hanging from her shoulder. The clasps were straining to close and it was bulging grotesquely at the sides, clearly heavy. “What’ve you got for me today?” 

Mabel paused slightly, obviously considering whether or not she ought to make him wait after what she considered a lack of decorum, but then she gave a small shrug to shake off the pettiness and swung the bag from her shoulder, depositing it on the weathered countertop. “Twist my arm,” she muttered with a crooked smile. Gunther, not one to wait when it came to new artifacts, already had the backpack open and was emptying its contents piece by piece. He peered through thick glasses perched on a long, crooked bony nose, eyes flickering back and forth as he assessed each item. 

Two piles quickly grew, one of rejects that were mostly either dupes or not high enough quality for display. The other much smaller pile held items of interest that Gunther intended to keep for the museum. 

“What about this little guy, I thought it looked like a good find,” Mabel gingerly plucked what appeared to be a chunk of rock from the reject pile. She cradled it in her hands and lowered her face to examine it more closely, then glanced back up at Gunther expectantly. The rocky mass was a mottled brown color, about the size of a potato, and covered in bumps and lumps. “It was a good guess, Mabel. At first glance I can see that it would be easily mistaken for a coprolite, but look here,” Gunther pointed a gloved finger. “See how coarse the grain is on this? And there’s no evidence of inclusions, which would almost definitely be in a coprolite. No, I can say with confidence that this is actually petrified mud. Not a bad specimen, you could probably get 50g for it.” 

Mabel’s face fell. She knew that was Gunther’s kind way of telling her that her prized fossil was actually worthless and she felt like an idiot for bringing in what was essentially old dirt. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she bit the inside of her cheek severely to keep her composure in check. 

Gunther was a wealth of knowledge, especially in regard to the natural history of the Ferngill Republic, Pelican Valley in particular. He was working on a book detailing the area’s prehistory and was always eager to see what Mabel may have dug up. It had only been a few weeks since Gunther taught her about coprolites, the extremely rare fossilized dung of long dead creatures, and how much interesting information could be gleaned from them, but now she was determined to find one. Patience, however, was not a virtue she had been blessed with. 

Gunther saw the brief shadow flit across her face, but chose to ignore it. She was too hard on herself. Mabel had only moved to Pelican Town this past spring and the winter season had only just started. She couldn’t expect herself to become an expert archaeologist in less than a year’s time. 

Gunther retrieved the petrified mud from Mabel’s hand and plopped it back in the reject pile. _Thunk._

“This is interesting, though,” he gestured to a rusty scrap of metal. “It looks like a spur.” 

“Yeah, but that’s not any time _near_ what you’re looking for,” she protested dejectedly. 

“It might not be Paleolithic, but it’s still important. This proves that people must have been raising animals here for many generations. Don’t sulk. I told you coprolites are rare, even rarer than fossils.” 

Mabel chewed her lip and stared stonily over the curator’s shoulder. Then, just as quickly, the mood passed. “Okay,” she declared, moving on, “so tell me how I can tell if I’ve really found one. I’m gonna do it, you know I will!” Some people called it stubbornness, Mabel preferred tenacity, and it was a virtue she demonstrated in abundance. 

“The quickest way to test for a coprolite is to lick it,” Gunther answered. His eye twitched with concealed mirth. Mabel raised an eyebrow skeptically, “You want me to lick ancient poop? I’m not falling for that.”

Gunther gave up on maintaining his deadpan and grinned, “I’m serious, Mabel. Coprolites are high in calcium phosphate, just like bones are, and when licked, if it’s real, your tongue will stick due to that high calcium content. I told you, it’s the same principle as goes for bones and we even tried it out on that vertebra you brought in. Remember that?” 

She remembered. 

It had been a few months ago, mid-summer. She found the chunk of bone while hoeing a melon patch. It had been hot and humid and she was thinking about how maybe she liked the idea of farming better than the actual farming part. Or at least the farming in the summer part. What was so great about this season anyway? Honestly, it was the worst. 

_Whack, whack._ Her hoe struck the ground, throwing back clods of hard dirt. 

_Whack, whack, whack, **CLANK!**_

Mabel scowled as the hoe reverberated painfully in her hands. This was bullshit. But she’d show them, everyone who laughed when she said she was moving from the city to restore the old family farm in Stardew Valley, everyone who’d raised their eyebrows and asked, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do? A farm is a lot different than tending those herb window boxes.” Intending to take out her frustration on the rocky soil, Mabel gave the offending stone a swift and sharp kick. _BAM!_

She was now sitting crouched on the ground, doubled in pain, a string of profanities spewing from her lips. The bright flashes of pain subsided and once she could focus again, she was thankful the farm was as isolated as it was. 

The rock jutted arrogantly from the patch of turned earth and did not budge when she attempted to pry it out with her grubby hands. Refusing to admit defeat to the damnable stone, a quick trip to the supply chest and she was back with an old pickaxe. 

_Clang, clang, clang!_

Mabel resolutely pounded away before it broke with a satisfying crack. She picked up the hunks of rock, hurling them toward the pond where they sank with a wet splash. Reaching for the last chunk, she paused. This one felt different. It was still partially embedded in the soil and appeared to have been under the rock rather than a part of it. She examined it. This was more lightweight and colored a grungy sand color. It didn’t have sharp edges and was distinctly shaped. Hmm. After a laughably short consideration, the hoe and pickaxe were left leaning against the front porch, the melon patch half tilled, She left the farm on an already well-worn path toward the Pelican Town Archaeological Center. 

“Okaa-aay, Gunther,” Mabel retorted, stringing out the syllables to ensure he knew she was taking his word for it, but was maybe not entirely happily about it. 

Gunther suppressed, unsuccessfully, another smile. “What are you getting into today? The Ice Festival is coming up, you could use some work on your fishing.” Mabel pursed her lips again, grimacing in mock annoyance. “I don’t care about the fishing tournament, you know I already feel bad that Pam wants to win so badly but never does. Besides, whoever thought carving a hole in the middle of a lake _you can drown in_ is obviously off their rocker.” 

“I think that was Mayor Lewis.” 

“Ah, makes sense then.” 

Gunther laughed, “Go on now, I’ve got to clean these things up for display. I’ll be sure to put your name on the I.D. tags.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m going. You gonna be around tonight for drinks?” Mabel carefully wrapped the rejected items back up and returned them to her canvas bag. Might as well see what kind of gold she could get for these later. 

“Of course, but I’ve been thinking,” he paused, stroking his trim goatee thoughtfully. Mabel eyed him skeptically, “That’s known to be dangerous...” she trailed off. 

He chuckled. “I’ve been thinking it might be nice to pay a visit to the The Stardrop. How about I meet you up there at 7:00, that gives me plenty of time to finish up here.” 

Mabel frowned. 

“Why can’t we just go to my place, you know how I am around people,” she whined halfheartedly. 

“I know, but I also think it would be good for you to get out so-“

“I _do_ get out! I’ve _been out_ all morning, picking up old dirt for you!” 

He glanced at her sternly, “You _know_ what I mean. You’ve been here almost a year and you haven’t said two words to anyone but me and Linus. It’ll be good for you. I’ll see you at 7. Now scoot.” 

Gunther busied himself putting the small assortment of acceptable relics into a small cardboard box to take them back for cleaning. Mabel knew this was the end of the conversation. “Okay, bye” she huffed, turning to leave. 

“See you at The Stardrop!” he called out merrily behind her. The heavy wooden doors whuffed shut again on his words and Mabel was gone.


	2. Four Letter Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel is good at drinking, bad at flirting.  
> The wheels in the brain go creak, creak, creak!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, hi. It's me. I stayed up all night writing this. It was fun. I think I have problems with commas though. I'd really love to hear any feedback.
> 
> Kudos and comments (plz?) are what helped Rose to never let go when the Titanic sank and Jack turned into a popsicle. 

_One...two.._

Footsteps crunched heavily on the icy packed snow. 

_Three...four...._

Mabel counted each step. 

_Five....six...._

Counting the footsteps made her feel better, gave her a small sense of calm when her stomach was churning.

_Seven....eight...._

She’d reached the regularly traversed paths of town now, but glancing over her shoulder she could see the lone set of prints leading into the Pelican Town square. 

Alone. 

It wasn’t so bad being alone. She used to be terrified of it, desperately clinging to and seeking solace in whoever she could find. But after the last relationship had gone south and she found herself lonesome and afraid once again, she used the snap judgement she reserved exclusively for important decisions and impulsively declared she was moving to Pelican Town.   
She wasn’t alone here. She had her cat and her chickens. Gunther and Linus. Marlon and Gil. Rasmodius when he was around. She had created a very insular existence for herself and was content within it. It was all she needed, really. 

Mabel stopped on the cobblestone paved square’s edge and stared dubiously at The Stardrop Saloon. _Ugh. Why did Gunther have to come up with this bright idea, what did she ever do to deserve this?_

The tavern glowed cozily, lamplight casting flickering shadows across the icy snowbanks outside. She grimaced and checked the time on her phone. **6:45 pm.** She had been very careful to be as punctual as possible and leaving no time for awkward idleness, but the walk went by more quickly than she’d planned. 

After leaving the museum that afternoon, Mabel had putzed around town with no particular motive. The first stop was the beach. Sloppy and salty, picking up chunks of coral she hoped to get at least a few gold for later on. 

Later she meandered down to the river, hoping to haul in some perch and maybe, begrudgingly, work on improving her poor fishing skills, though she’d never admit it to Gunther. That was a bust. One rusty Joja Cola can, three algae, and a broken pair of glasses later she gave up. She was clumsy, but who was incompetent enough to lose their glasses in the river? 

She spent the rest of the day in the chicken coop. The acrid smell made her nose twitch, but the company of the warm, fluffy birds was welcomed and it was easy to lose a few hours there stroking their feathers and listening to the soft coos while she read her book, _Weird Monsters: A Short Guide to the Long History of Ferngill Cryptids_. By the time she left to get cleaned up, Mabel was convinced that sea monsters **did** exist. _Add that to the list_ , she made a mental check note. 

With a heavy sigh, she picked up her booted feet and started forward, quickly closing the gap to the small saloon. _One...two...three..._

*

Fans of the Stardrop described it as quaint, cozy, or intimate. Mabel, hunched over a corner table, eyed the tavern skeptically and deemed it claustrophobic. She was on her second beer now, thirst fueled by anxiety that was in direct correlation to her proximity with other people, and that helped some.  
Mabel took another swig of the sudsy brew. A raggedy crossword puzzle book was on the table in front of her. It was partially filled in with pen, but the answers she wasn’t quite sure on had been penciled in. She glared at the book, perturbed by feeling ignorant. Chin in her hand, she took a glance at her phone again, then did a quick sweep of the room. **7:10.** _Where the hell was Gunther?_

Her eyes locked on to the sight of a narrow pair of shoulders at the bar. Heavy green tweed enveloped them and a few loose tendrils of hair curled across the top of the crisp, white collar. 

She didn’t remember seeing him before. 

Mabel racked her brain, searching through the few scant drawers of interactions she’d had with Pelican Town’s residents up until now. 

_This was ridiculous._

A shift in weight brought the body’s face into view. 

A distinct but delicate jawline shadowed with a haze of dark stubble and the slightest mustache. 

Heavy, thick-framed glasses. 

A slender neck that traveled down and was lost in the darkness of the tweed jacket. 

Who was _this?_

Mabel watched him swivel that neck side to side, face scrunched up and then an audible _POP_ sounded over the low hum of the jukebox as vertebrae cracked. He soothed his sore muscles, rubbing his neck absentmindedly with one hand, the other toying with a half empty glass of wine. 

She glanced at the graffitied puzzle again, the wheels in her brain clumsily churning and fueled by alcoholic lubrication. 

“Hey”

Harvey turned, unsure who could be addressing him. It was a woman- dark haired, clad in boots, jeans, and long, trim green woolen coat that ended in a flare at her knees. She plopped heavily on the stool next to him. 

“So,” she rested her jaw on her hand, propped up on the bar top, “What’s a four letter word for womanizer?”

Harvey gawked. Was his mouth agape? He quickly shut it. “Erm, excuse me?”

She yawned and rolled her eyes, obvious in her disregard. 

“A four letter word for womanizer...it looks like you’d know about that,” she drawled. 

Harvey was confused. First and foremost that a woman was in front of him and she was…was she flirting?   
Secondly, did he really look like a womanizer? He wasn’t sure what to do. He coughed uncomfortably. 

“Ehh...I don’t, I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean,” he managed to peep back. 

A light _whump_ and then the tattered crossword collection was on the bar top. She pointed wordlessly to clue number twelve across, “Womanizer”; there were four empty boxes in its given space on the puzzle. 

Harvey felt the heat of a blush rising in his cheeks. “S-sorry to disappoint, but I don’t know much about that. M-maybe if you have any medical questions...There’s a doctor in the house!”   
He felt his heart sink at the crack of a bad joke. 

Mabel eyed him, brain wheels turning. 

“Oh. You’re the town doctor, yeah?”

Harvey wasn’t quite sure what to say. “That’s me...” he trailed off awkwardly. 

“Oh, I -“. She was cut off by the jingle of the doors. Eyes flying to her phone, **7:28 pm** , she glared furiously at Gunther who was striding into the saloon, followed by Marlon and an unsturdy Gil. She paused momentarily, then quickly strode across the room to Gunther & Co. “Just where the hell have _you_ been?” She emphasized her point with a prodding finger, glaring at Marlon who snickered behind Gunther’s hulking shoulder. _16 going on 60_ , Mabel thought dourly. Gunther looked at her with bemusement, “Mabel! Sorry we’re late. We had....” he glanced back to Gil and Marlon and winked obviously, “we had some business to finish up that ran, uh, late.” 

“Gunther William—“ Mabel began, slightly inebriated and more than irate. “Now, now,” the older man shushed, “Come on now, how about a drink?” Marlon and Gil had already slumped into the corner table previously occupied by Mabel and Gunther followed suit. He dipped his head to Emily’s expectant face behind the bar and held up four fingers. She nodded back in acknowledgement, hastily gathering a handful of empty glass mugs. Somewhat placated, Mabel moved to take her seat, then realized she still had a mostly empty glass on the bar. She moved back to retrieve it and paused, feeling someone behind her. She glanced back quickly and saw Marlon’s jack-o-lantern grin. She groaned. 

“Gunther already ordered the beers, Marlon, what’re you doing?” 

“We-ellll, Mabel, looks alike you made a friend while waitin on us, eh?” Marlon jerked his head toward the bar where Harvey, flustered and unsure what to do, busied himself with studying the crossword book. 

Mabel smirked, her normally anxious and prickly disposition lightened by the steady stream of ale. “Maybe I did make a friend, Marlon. Gunther’s always busy and between you ‘n Gil, I need someone good with their hands to uh…..give me a hand.” What was meant to be a well-placed jab ended lamely, but she shrugged and tried to smile coyly, pretending that’s what she meant and not caring. She didn’t feel too bad right now. Liquid courage always got her into trouble. 

Hearing her declaration, Harvey turned to face the pair. Somber brown eyes behind a pair of crooked glasses widened at the innuendo and he was flushed. _Maybe it was time go,_ he pondered. He didn’t get out much anyway and this wasn’t what he’d been expecting on a Wednesday night. 

Mabel quickly upended and then finished the last swigs of ale in her mug. She turned to Harvey, “Come on,” she started, “sit with us, it’ll be fun, I promise.” She swayed briefly on her feet, her jacket now unbuttoned from the warmth of the pub and her imbibing. She laid a hand lightly on his arm, “C’mon” and jerked her head toward the far table. 

Harvey wasn’t sure. Gunther and Gil sat at the table hunched over mugs of mead and appeared to be deep in discussion, but Harvey saw them both glancing in his direction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into this. _But then again, she....what was her name? Mabel?_ He couldn’t deny she was cute. He grimaced. _Stop it, Harvey. She’s obviously had too much to drink and you’re better than than that, aren’t you?_ Was he? He looked again at Mabel again, uncertain. 

“Well, I..I’m still working on this drink, so I probably shouldn’t,” he sputtered.   
Swiftly, Mabel plucked the glass from his hand and downed the last few swallows of wine. “Now I really owe you one, you’ll have to take advantage of that,” she teased, slurring slightly. This time Harvey definitely gaped, unsure of how to respond.   
Marlon threw one arm across Harvey’s shoulders, “C’mon doc, I’ll getcha ‘nother. You gotta watch out for that one,” he nodded at Mabel, who was already back at the table and sitting down, “she’s a real bobcat.” 

Harvey wasn’t sure what that meant. Was that a…good thing? 

“Now come on ‘round and I’ll getcha drink and you tell me what’s new with that Slime vac-cer-nation yeh told me aboot before.” 

The two men walked toward the now lively table and Harvey was feeling concern over his ability to handle what he had just been pulled into and wondering exactly how he had ended up here in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, if you don't know the answer, the crossword clue will come up again later ;)


	3. Wish In One Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marlon does some reflecting, Mabel does some mining, something goes terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, friends- sorry for the delay in getting a new chapter posted, it's finals week at school -_-  
> I feel like this chapter may be a little short, but just hang with me! I'd love to hear what you think, please leave comments and kudos- I love both and they make my heart flutter!

Marlon leaned back in his sturdy wooden chair, stretching deeply and cracking his knuckles. The small office of the Adventurer’s Guild was deserted but for himself and Gil. It usually was, though. No one much bothered to come these days. Not like they had when this had been a proper Guild and not just a shabby house with two dried up old men rattling around inside. Even Rasmodius was rarely to be seen, preferring instead to post want-ads in the town square when he needed materials or monsters from the mine. _Can’t even be bothered to slay his own slimes,_ Marlon thought sourly and he snorted. The sharp sound of his disgust nearly roused Gil who was asleep in a rocking chair next to the crackling fire, hat pulled down over his eyes.  
  
Marlon sighed wistfully, allowing himself to think briefly of the good ole days. The good ole days with Gunther and Gil, Linus and Rasmodius. The good ole days when they were young and brash and strong and eager to take on whatever came their way. The good ole days adventuring together- beating Brutes and smashing Skeletons. That good feeling that came from having brothers in arms whom you could rely on to be next to you, rushing into the fray, blood racing and hearts pounding. And also knowing that those brothers were there to look out for you and defend you, the same way you’d lay your life down for them if it came to it. That thrill that came from surviving battle and cutting down your foes, then feeling so ravenous for life that all you could do was find the next town and devour its food and drink and women.

Enough of that now, though, he thought.

 _No use in wallowin’. If ye wish in one hand and shit in the other, well...._ he couldn’t remember exactly how the rest of it went, but it was enough to know he shouldn’t be carrying on over lost youth.

He glanced at the dusty cuckoo clock, bird long since broken after one too many early morning cuckoos. The hands on the clock quivered, the ticking sounding loudly in the quiet room. 10:50 p.m. Soon it would be time to start closing up for the night and he could have a nip of the whiskey Gil thought he didn’t know about. He chuckled. _Ole Gil, thinking he was putting a sly one over on me...mebbe I lost an eye, but I ent stupid_

Marlon stood, his bones creaking in protest. He’d been sitting behind the desk most of the night, reading a Cave X novel that had been tucked behind the Guild’s large cracked leather ledger in an effort to maintain a semblance of propriety on the off chance that someone might happen to stop in. He stumped over to the small collection of Arms he kept for sale, he could probably spend these last few minutes reorganizing things. _Not that it would matter if i closed up a few minutes early anyway,_ he thought stonily. Just about the only one who came by was Mabel, on her way to or back from the mines. _Mabel..._ he tried to scowl, but couldn’t keep himself from grinning. She’d been damn mad after that stunt they’d pulled last week at The Stardrop.

It had all started with Linus. Linus wasn’t much one for company, but he did occasionally come by to see Marlon and Gil, especially during the winter months like it was now. On his last visit, he’d gifted Marlon with a Pike, freshly caught on the way over, and as the two of them prepared the fish together, Linus had mentioned how sometimes it _was_ nice to get together for a meal with friends and that if he kept it up, it’d be Mabel taking his place in the tent as the resident town hermit.

Now, Marlon enjoyed a juicy bit of gossip as well as he enjoyed a juicy Pike steak and it wasn’t long before he was reporting a somewhat embellished tale about Mabel the Hermit to Gunther over a stout glass of mead the next night. Gunther had then come up with the idea that Mabel needed more friends. Marlon wasn’t quite sure _why_ she would, but he also didn’t mind a distraction and he trusted Gunther, a man he knew curated relationships as carefully as he did artifacts. That was how they’d all ended up at the saloon, though Marlon honestly wasn’t sure if Gunther had intended the Doc to get roped into it or if it was just bad luck he happened to be there at the right time.

 _Heh, heh,_ Marlon wheezed another laugh, thinking of how uncomfortable the Doc looked when Mabel had almost dragged him over to their table. She sure was one for getting her way, that was for sure.

He remembered the first day she’d showed up on the mountain, planning on descending into the mines alone. He had intercepted her before she got to the ladder and gruffly told her how dangerous the mines were. He could tell she was nervous, at the time he thought it was from the monsters but had later discovered it was because of him, because an unfamiliar person was addressing her. She was odd that way. Hell bent on venturing into the cavern, she’d at least accepted his offer of a rusty sword before climbing down. He’d only given her the rusty sword because he didn’t trust her to follow through, not wanting to waste good weaponry on a newb whom he fully expected to come crying through his door at any moment. Instead he had been shocked when a week later she showed up, defiantly lugging a dirty sack of slime in with her as proof that she was good enough to join their guild. He’d never admit it, but he had been proud and glad he was wrong about her.

 _Good ole, Mabel..._ he mused, absently polishing the blade of a cutlass. _Mabel, Mabel, get off the table..._ he laughed. _She hated that one. She...._

Marlon froze, his blood running cold in his veins. He looked at the cuckoo, its hands pointing to 11 and 2.

She’d been down in the mines since this afternoon, giddy that she didn’t have crops to tend and could spend the day stockpiling stone and clay and hoping for more iron ore. It had been a long time. A really long time now that he thought about it.

She should have been back by now.

He took a breath, pushing down the prickle of anxiety he felt.

In minutes he had his well-worn gear on and was kicking Gil’s rocking chair.

“Uh, whuh?” Gil gasped, startled at the abrupt awakening.

“Let’s go, Gil, we’ve got to fetch after Mabel- she’s missing in the mines.”

*

Marlon wasn’t afraid of the mines and in fact, he felt ashamed knowing that some small part of him rejoiced at the opportunity to descend tonight and taste something akin to adventure once more.

They didn’t find her until well after midnight, her dark coat almost hiding her still form in the shadows of the cave. Her canvas rucksack had been flung against the wall behind her, its contents spilling to the rocky floor. “Damn it, girlie,” Marlon heard Gil curse quietly standing beside him. Gil had always been the more easygoing of the two between himself and Marlon and he had taken quickly to the young woman’s presence at the Guild. She was often hanging around, pleading for swordsmanship lessons or asking for stories of the old days over mugs of beer after the Guild had been locked up for the night. One evening, into his cups, Gil had thrown one arm around Mabel’s shoulders, crunching her into a crushing hug, and declared she was the daughter he’d always wanted. Marlon had called Gil a sap, but inside, he knew that he also secretly relished the company of the lively young woman who had injected herself into their routine.

 

There was blood. Blood matting her hair and staining the stony floor she lay crumpled upon. Blood mixed with dirt smeared her face.

And her leg.

 

An icy knot of dread formed in the pit of Marlon’s stomach.

Legs aren’t supposed to bend like that.

 

“Gil, let’s go,”

The two men rushed toward Mabel’s slight figure- unconscious, her breathing coming in shallow pants. Marlon was suddenly afraid they were too late, but he refused to give up now.

He gathered her body up as carefully as he could, wincing when he heard and felt bones grating against each other. He would carry her out and Gil would lead the way, destroying any bats or slimes that dared to interrupt their now frantic mission.

“Get us out, Gil, we gotsta get ‘er to the Doc”


	4. Bitter Accomplishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey has less than positive feelings for Mabel after their Stardrop encounter threatens what he has worked so hard for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week for the semester, coming right up!  
> I’m so stoked to have time this summer to work on this. What do you think so far? Kudos and comments are THE highlight of my day!

Harvey was annoyed.

Something had been gnawing away at him for the last week, floating to the surface of his mind from the dark recesses he continued to try to push it back into. It was irritating, like a sliver that had worked its way into his brain and was now lodged there, festering.

_How had she known?_

That was the question, wasn’t it? The one that kept niggling away at him, chewing away with doubt at the corner of his consciousness.

_Did she actually know, though?_

It was possible she didn’t, that it had just all been in jest.

_Was he that obvious?_

Harvey was stretched out on the couch in his small apartment, feet propped up and a pillow under his head. A cold cup of coffee, half drunk, was leaving a ring on the wooden tabletop of the end table next to him.

Havey sighed deeply, mind still circling around his troubles. He absently tugged at the end of his mustache, frowning.

_She doesn’t know, Harvey. Just forget it already._

Fingers steepled atop his chest, Harvey stared at the ceiling and carefully once again reconsidered the events of the previous week. How he’d been minding his own business when that woman had approached him and publicly accused him of being a womanizer.

_That’s not what she did, Harvey, calm down. She was just intoxicated, you know that…and weird._

Harvey grew up in an unremarkable suburb outside of Zuzu City. He was the middle child of three boys, but the athleticism his brothers had been well blessed with apparently skipped a generation. He had always been envious of his brothers’ large, bulky bodies. They both easily made the gridball team and were star players while his delicate build, asthma, and glasses prevented him from joining them on the field. Always one to make the best of things, Harvey had instead absorbed the popularity of his brothers by proxy. It was easy enough to do and the results were effective. Harvey did not want for friendship, though there were none that he considered especially meaningful. His popularity also extended to the opposite sex and he maintained a series of casual relationships throughout high school.

After high school, lacking any immediate goals, Harvey’s brothers both joined the armed services to take up the fight against the Gotoro Empire. Harvey went to the recruitment office, too, intent on finally fulfilling his dream of becoming a pilot, but his application was declined owing to “insufficient visual acuity and inadequate physical condition”.

The memory still filled him with a mixture of shame and ire.

Dream crushed, Harvey implemented Plan B- becoming a doctor and making a lot of money.  
…one part of that plan had come true at least.

College wasn’t especially difficult for Harvey, the undergraduate years, at least. This academic ease allowed him the opportunity for pursuing his other interests- jazz, planes, and women. It became common knowledge amongst Harvey’s fraternity brothers that the best way to pick up girls was by spending time with him. Women were apparently drawn to his sensitive looks and inherently awkward disposition. He didn’t mind it. He enjoyed the attention and not being alone, so long as it didn’t interfere with his studies, because he was determined to become successful and to best his brothers for once. He was tired of always being the different one, so if he was going to be different, he’d at least be different and get something out of it- a high paying salary and the prestige of being not only the first doctor in the family, but the first to graduate college.

He remembered the day that the terrible news was delivered, that both of his brothers had been killed in an unexpected strike on their unit’s encampment. Now he would be the only one in the family to graduate from college.  
  
A bitter accomplishment.

 

 

His brothers’ death came during his second year of med school and from then on, Harvey became a social isolate. He moved out of the Alfa Pie Moo fraternity house and, unable to afford an apartment on his own, began leasing a room from a retired couple near the university. He stopped going to the local jazz club where he had been previously well known, opting instead to play old records on his beat up turn table at home while he studied charts of the musculoskeletal system.

Distancing himself from others and avoiding close relationships ensured, in his opinion, that he would never again have to feel that sharp stab of shock and despair in his chest that came with losing someone. Since losing two of their children, Harvey’s parents had all but disappeared into a dark and lonely haze. He couldn’t help but feel that they were disappointed it hadn’t been him that had died instead.

It was while interning at Zuzu Regional Medical Center that Harvey first learned about the rural physician incentive program offered by the Republic. It seemed like a tailormade solution for what to do next with his life since Plan B’s original intent had derailed with the deaths of his siblings. Laying in a cot at the hospital, exhausted after being roused to respond to yet another after-hours call, Harvey had found the idea of leaving and going somewhere far away from the life he had now to be very appealing. The fact that the incentive plan would pay 25,000 gold per year that he could use toward paying off the loans that were currently keeping him on a cup o’ noodles level budget was even better. Become a doctor and get rich, hah...

He didn’t particularly care where he went, just as long as it was far from the desolate gaze of his mother and father. Somewhere near the sea might be nice though… Harvey wasn’t one for swimming and his fair skin burned easily, but he did enjoy fresh seafood and the thought of ready access to lobster bisque didn’t seem like a terrible idea. He ultimately decided on Pelican Town for his new home, choosing it from the long list of rural communities based solely on its name and the fact that he liked birds. The paperwork was submitted and when Harvey completed his residency the following year he was soon thereafter quickly on his way to Pelican Town.

It didn’t take him long to get into the routine of things in the small town after he settled into the furnished apartment above the clinic he was now operating. Pelican Town’s residents had easily accepted him into the fold and after the initial excitement and curiosity of the new doctor had passed, they mostly left him to himself, which he preferred. He maintained a position of respect and esteem in the community.

Respect that he now felt was threatened due to the errant words of that….that _woman!_  
He felt like it was probably a safe bet to say that Mayor Lewis and the rest of the town’s citizens wouldn’t hold him in the same regard if they knew of his numerous “youthful indiscretions”.

Harvey stretched, feeling his calf muscles pulling almost to the point of spasming. _Getting soft_ , he chided himself with a sigh. He needed to start exercising again, he just hated the winter and how bitterly cold it was and so it was easy to abandon his once daily walks in favor of listening to favorite jazz albums while working on his models. Caroline had recently invited him to a Tuesday afternoon exercise class, maybe he would try that. He saw Caroline frequently since she lived next door and he couldn’t think of a way that he would be able to avoid the invitation forever.

It was late. He sighed again. He should try to go to sleep. He had to make a house call to George tomorrow and the old curmudgeon was still a pain in the ass even on his good days.

Harvey rose, stretching again, then padded over to the bookshelf, looking for something to read while he fell asleep.

**-CLICK-**

He switched off the lamp.

Darkness enveloped the small apartment. He had lived in Pelican Town three years now, but growing up as a city kid, the utter blackness that took over at night still unnerved him. Harvey yawned. Finally, he could feel sleep overtaking him. He relished how cozy his bed was in those fuzzy moments between consciousness and sleep. He was lucky. The days of 36 hours on call with not a wink of sleep were behind him. If the worst he had to deal with was a cranky old geezer in exchange for a good night’s sleep, he could manage that.

**-BRRRRRRRRANG-**

**-BRRRRRRRRRRRANG-**

The after-hours emergency call button that had literally not been buzzed a single time in the _three years_ he’d been in Pelican Town was now ringing angrily.

Shit.


	5. Laidman's Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel wakes up and things don’t go as anyone planned.

It was uncertain when they had dozed off, each of them struggling to maintain a vigil in the long night, no one wanting to be caught with their eyes closed when the doctor finally came out. If he came out... _when_ he came out.

The waiting area, not a large room by any standards, was entirely too small for the group of older men that were currently camped out in it. Marlon and Gil were next to each other, slouched into adjacent chairs. Gil was snoring and his mouth was ajar. His head had fallen against the side of Marlon’s much taller shoulder. Marlon’s head rested against the wall behind him, his gangly legs stretched out into the aisle of the tiny clinic. The heavy cloak he was wearing was smeared with now-dried blood, a visceral reminder of the events from a few hours ago. Marlon’s right arm crossed his chest, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger that was tucked into his belt. If he still had had two eyes, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine him sleeping with one open, habit from all those years ranging in the field.

Gunther and Linus were also present. Gil had called Gunther from the hospital shortly after they had awakened Doc Harvey whom had then taken Mabel from Gil and into the rear of the hospital. Marlon had tried to follow, but the Doc wouldn’t let him pass into the surgery area. Both men were shouting and Gil had been afraid they were going to come to blows over it- Harvey adamant about protecting the sanitary integrity of the operating room and Marlon hellbent on staying by his friend’s side. In the end, the only way Gil was able to talk Marlon down was reminding him that they needed to notify Gunther about the accident.

To be fair, Gunther had never been good with blood or keeping his head in an emergency. When Gil called to inform him of Mabel’s situation, the curator had first gone silent, so quiet that Gil initially thought he might have lost the call. But then he heard the sharp sound of Gunther’s panicked breathing at the end of the line and Gil knew he had to calm the other man down. “Gunther! Pay attention, Gunth!” More labored breathing. “Gunth! Now pay attention, are ye listening to me? Pull it together, man. We’re at the Clinic. The Doc’s got Mabel, but that’s all I know. She was hurt bad, Gunth, real bad. It was hard to tell how bad in the dark, but there was a lot of blood. Listen, Gunth, go fetch Linus and meet us here, ye got it?” He paused, waiting for Gunther to respond.

“You want me to fetch Linus?” Gunther managed to reply, “but what about Mabel, I should be there, I’m coming to meet you, oh what shou-“

Gil cut him off. He was losing his temper now. It was late, he was tired, it had been hell fighting his way out of the mines while Marlon carried girlie, and the last thing he needed was for Gunther to fall to hell while ole Bones did Yoba knows what to his girlie back there, hacking her up. “Gunther- do _not_ come here first. Now you listen tah me. Yer gonna go fetch Linus first and tell him what happened and then and only then ye’ll meet us here. Take the mining carts, it’ll be faster. Gots it?”

He heard the slow sigh of relief from Gunther’s end of the line. He was a good man and a fine archaeologist, but he was shit when it came to staying levelheaded in a crisis. He needed direction and a firm hand in times like this and Gil, well...Gil was tired, but he could muster it up still to take care of things. He was a good second-in-command (Marlon having been the historical troop captain) and even after so many years of “retirement”, each party member still fell easily into their given roles. “Yes, I’ve got it, Gil. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Gunther answered.

The phone clicked and the line went dead. Now Gil took a deep sigh. He would go find Marlon. And soon Linus and Gunther would be here. And they would wait.

 

*

 

Mabel winced, opening her eyes, but immediately regretting the decision. Her head hurt. Hell, her whole body hurt. What the hell had happened? The last thing she remembered was a reddish colored mist seeping up from the cracks in the stony floor, then the rapid fire buzzing of wings and squelching of slimes all coming toward her. She’d cussed, then tried to run for the ladder, but a swarm had appeared out of the darkness and she raised her sword against the coming onslaught, but the noise...the noise was coming from all over now, sounds ringing and ricocheting off the acoustic cave walls. She shifted her weight, trying to pull herself up to a seated position, then yelped involuntarily. Her left arm was in a sling and hurt like hell when she tried to put weight on it.

“Oh. You’re awake. Welcome back.”

She turned, carefully avoiding putting any weight on her left side, then saw Harvey seated across the small curtained enclave from the bed she was currently occupying. Mabel swallowed hard, a knot of dread and nausea forming in her stomach. She quickly averted her eyes from Harvey’s glaring face and stared at the floor. Who decided that purple tile was a good idea? Hospitals were supposed to be blue..or green...cool colors. Was purple a c—

“So,” Harvey interrupted her wandering thoughts, his voice tight, “How are you feeling?” His voice belied the sentiment of the question.

“Uh, I’m okay, thank you...” she answered in a small voice. He looked pissed.

Harvey snorted derisively.

“The hell you are,” he scoffed, “Marlon and Gil found you unconscious and battered in the mines... I had to perform an emergency surgery on you.”

Mabel blanched, then whirled back to inspect the damage to her body. The sudden movement upset the rickety IV next to the bed.

“Be _careful_!” Harvey admonished sternly. “Don’t be so squirrelly.” His eyebrows knit together in a scowl.

_What is this dude’s deal?_

“Uh, sorry, I—“ whatever lame reply she had been mustering was cut short when she, intent on examining the damage, had lifted up the thin cotton hospital blanket and saw her right leg. Partially obscured by the blanket and dim lighting, she could still see a long row of stitches creeping up her shin, about a foot in length, like an angry caterpillar. Her eyes widened and she threw the cover back, oblivious again to Harvey’s presence in her intent to inspect the damages.

“Don’t.”

Mabel’s good right hand stopped in midair, she had been reaching to touch the wound.

“Don’t touch it. I only just finished and you don’t need to go getting them infected.” Harvey’s tone was perturbed, like he was talking to an errant child.

Mabel’s hand obediently back at her side, she twisted the blanket between her fingers, nervously fidgeting. “What happened?” She asked, cautious.

“Not sure, you’ll need to ask them.” Harvey replied curtly. “But first, we’ll need to discuss the matter of payment.”

Mabel chewed her lower lip anxiously. _Of course, payment. Shit. How was she supposed to pay for this? It was winter and she had no crops coming in and she had been saving to buy that golden axe. Shit. Her crops. Shit. How long did it take to get over a broken leg anyway?_

Harvey watched her, traces of a bemused grin on his face that he struggled to keep composed. _Yeah, maybe his bedside manner was lacking, but that’s what she got- for last week and for waking him up in the middle of the night because she was out screwing around in the mines._

“Well?” He asked sharply.

Mabel turned to face him, she looked at the spot on the wall directly over his shoulders rather than in his eyes. _Close enough..._ ”Yes, I understand, _Doctor_ , she replied coolly, “Let me know how you prefer to receive monetary compensation.” Inside she was a ball of knots covered in thorns dipped in acid, her anxiety flaring and reducing her to an icy shell of cordiality.

Harvey snorted again.

“Oh, compensation? Well. If I recall correctly, I believe you told me last week at the saloon that you _really_ owed me. I’m sure we can work something out.”

He couldn’t resist.

She scowled, eyes now directly glaring into his, then quickly looking away again.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied dismissively, almost cartoonish in her standoffishness. Harvey was enjoying her discomfort immensely.

“Now,” she continued, “didn’t you say my friends were here? Please, may they come in?”

 

*

 

Gil was the first through the door, pushing his way to Mabel’s bedside and then obviously restraining himself from enveloping her in the bear hug he wanted to give.

“Mabel!” He cried with delight, “We been all worried about ye!” Marlon, Gunther, and Linus all crowded closely around him, jockeying for a position to get closer to the hospital bed. Marlon tripped on one of the IV wheels causing it to shimmy against the wall and Harvey, exhausted and irate, had had enough. “ _Gentlemen_ ,” he bellowed, then remembering his training, “if you could please give the patient some space? It won’t do to undo the hard work I’ve put into patching our _dear_ Mabel up.” His emphasis did not go unnoticed and Mabel glared at him; however, the others didn’t seem to pay any attention in their excitement over seeing her conscious again. They each took an exaggerated step back from her bedside.

“Er, Doctor Harvey?” Linus spoke softly, he was distinctly uncomfortable in the Clinic and out of place wearing his rough shod toga, but he had an air of authority about him and it was obvious he hadn’t always been the wild hermit of the woods.

“Yes?”

Linus continued, “Doctor Harvey, can you please tell us just exactly what is the diagnosis here for Miss Mabel?”

Five faces turned expectantly to Harvey.

“Well,” he began, unconsciously straightening his posture and lapsing into his doctor voice. “Upon presenting, the patient had suffered a compound open fracture of the right tibia and fibula. A closed fracture of the left clavicle was also present...” he droned along for several more minutes.

“Errr, Doc? Can ye tell us what that means in laid man terms?” Marlon asked. Linus groaned at the mispronunciation but said nothing.

Harvey sighed. He should have known. His perfect textbook diagnosis, ruined by a bunch of rubes. “In _layman’s terms_ ,” His enunciation went unnoticed by Marlon, “Mabel broke both shin bones in her right leg. The bones punctured the skin. I was required to clean and disinfect the wounds, then reset the bones. I had to then join them with a metal plate screwed into the bones. She also broke her collarbone.” He finished with an internal huff.

_Laidman’s terms..._

Gunther was the first to speak then. “Doctor Harvey, we are so very grateful that you were here to lend your most skilled medical expertise to our dear Mabel,”

 _Well, that’s better,_ Harvey thought.

“However, Doctor Harvey, please, might you tell us what the steps to her recovery are? I’m sure we are all quite anxious to know when she’ll be back on her feet again.”

Harvey thought for a moment. “The broken clav—“ he glanced at Marlon, “the broken collarbone won’t require more than a few weeks with her arm immobilized in the sling. The tib-“ he glanced again and sighed, “the shin bones will take longer. It will be a minimum of 12 weeks before she can become weight bearing on that leg again.”

“But my crops!!” Mabel interjected, upset.

“It’s the first week of winter,” Linus responded firmly, “no crops in the winter. Count yourself lucky, you’ll be ready to go by spring.”

“But, the mine and the ores and my axe and the fossils,” Mabel continued on, distraught.

“ _No_ mines. _No_ ores. _**No**_ fossils.” Gunther’s voice was hard. Mabel tried to look at him as pleadingly as possible, but her gaze didn’t reach him. He shook his head.

“Okay,” she forced her voice to brighten, “that’s fine, I understand, it’s for my own good. I can wait. I’ll just wait and rest and heal and I will take it easy and I’ll catch up on the Queen of Sa-“

Gil cut her off, “Who are you foolin’ now, girlie? Since when have you been a couch po'tater? We might be old, but we ent dum.”

Marlon continued, “Thas’ right. We ent dumb. So...” he paused for a moment, “so ones of us’ll have to keep a guard on you 24/7 a’so’s ye don’t do nothing stupid ye shouldn’t be a doin.”

Mabel scowled, then tried to put on the most innocent expression she could muster. It didn’t work well. The morphine drip was running out. It hurt.

“Where’s Ras?” she asked, “he could stay with me...”

Now Marlon snorted, “Ye think we’ll have that roustabout, unreliable wizar—“

Linus cut him off, “Rasmodius is away, Mabel. I’m sure in other circumstances he would be here with us now and advising you the same. You cannot remain on your own, you must have someone to assist you while you are healing.”

Harvey was smugly sitting in his seat, enjoying Mabel’s ire at the unwanted paternal displays of concern being foisted upon the patient that had, until last night, been plaguing his mind.

Gunther turned to look at Harvey.

“You’re right, Linus,” he remarked cheerfully.

Harvey looked on blissfully, enjoying the discomfort of his irksome patient.

 _She’ll be causing much less trouble now that she’s bedridden_.

“In fact,” Gunther continued, “I cannot think of a better suggestion than to move the good Doctor in with our dearest Mabel until she’s recovered.”

Harvey’s beaming smile turned to an expression of incredulity.

“What?” He gasped.

“Why it makes perfect sense, who better to look after this reckless patient than you, dear doctor, especially now that your annual appointments are all but complete and finished until the spring?” Gunther smiled earnestly.

Harvey suppressed a violent urge.

“Yes, you’re right, Gunther,” Linus chimes in, his eyes gleaming, “What a wonderful idea, we’ll make the arrangements post haste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I can’t help but make Harvey such a brat. I didn’t start out this way, but honestly that’s how he’s been speaking to me. I like it. What do you think?


	6. Silver Linings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel returns home and Harvey doesn’t find the peace and quiet he was hoping for.

It had been two days since Harvey moved into the small second bedroom in Mabel’s home. Honestly, he was completely surprised to find out that she even had the spare bedroom at all, figuring it was just something Linus and Gunther had been saying to get him to go along with their halfcocked plan at turning him into a live-in doctor for the season. It came as kind of a shock then to discover it hadn’t been a lie after all. It vaguely annoyed Harvey, as a matter of fact. Here he was, a bonafide physician up to his ears in debt and living in what amounted to a studio apartment above a tin can clinic, while this newcomer just walked in and inherited a fully functioning farmhouse and property? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

That had been his initial impression anyway.  
  
So the morning after the surgery, he was insistent that Mabel stay once more overnight for observation to ensure there were no complications, Harvey prepared to leave for what would hopefully be a short trip. He had a large leather suitcase, somewhat shabby but sturdy, packed with the essentials- his shaving kit and toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a couple books, and an unopened model kit he had ordered online and been meaning to start. At least now he’d have the free time for that. Silver linings.  
  
Coming downstairs dressed in his wool toggled duffle coat, Harvey walked anxiously into Mabel’s hospital enclave. He set the heavy suitcase down quietly on the floor and his mustache twitched with a smile when the sound startled her. She had been laying on her back, eyes closed and rubbing her temples, and now she quickly struggled to sit up, facing him.  
  
“Don’t put any weight on that,” he directed, nodding at her immobilized left arm, “you’ll hurt yourself.”  
  
Mabel scowled, “I know that, you keep telling me that. I’m not, I was just trying to sit up is all. You know, it’s not any fun to be stuck here wrapped up like I’m in some kind of straight jacket.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harvey replied, “I bet not. Maybe you’ll think of that next time you go gallivanting around in the mines.”  
  
“Ugh,” Mabel sputtered, “I told you before, I wasn’t gallivanting! I was working!”  
  
Harvey rolled his eyes. This conversation had been on repeat in some form or fashion since she came to after the surgery yesterday morning.  
  
“Wait here,” he replied, pointedly disregarding her protests.  
  
“Yeah, like I have a choice...” he heard her mutter but chose to ignore it. He left the room briefly and Mabel heard a loud clatter. Harvey returned pushing a wheelchair. She raised an eyebrow, then looked at him expectantly.  
  
“How else were you planning to get home?” he asked. “I’m not carrying you and those friends of yours are too old to be playing piggyback.” It was easier for Harvey to be this confident when Marlon wasn’t in front of him sharpening his dagger for the umpteenth time. _Why did he have to do that, surely there wasn’t any reason he needed a blade sharp enough to split hairs at any given moment?_  
  
“Come on now,” he stopped the wheelchair in front of the bed and applied the brake, “I’ll help you, but you’re going to have to carry my suitcase on your lap.”

Gunther, Linus, Gil, and Marlon ( _and Marlon’s dagger,_ Harvey noted with an internal sigh) were waiting for them in the frosty town square. It was lightly snowing, the first snow of the year. Frozen plumes of snowflakes drifted from the grey sky and skittered across the hard earth. It would have been quite pretty if he hadn’t been in such a sour mood. Sure, there was the situation from the saloon and he still wasn’t sure if she posed a threat or not to his good reputation in Pelican Town, but beyond even that, Harvey hated feeling the tight pangs of anxiety clamping down on his chest. He was a man of habits and patterns and this was seriously disrupting his routine. He did not relish the thought of cohabitating with a stranger and in their home, on their turf, nonetheless. It left him unsettled and with a gloomy hanging cloud of existential dread.

The walk to Mabel’s farm was slow going, Gunther pushing Mabel’s wheelchair, careful to avoid any potholes or rocks. Linus had offered to carry the suitcase which had been previously resting on Mabel’s lap, but Harvey quickly snatched it up, laughing that of course he hadn’t intended to use Mabel as a pack mule…

Harvey chewed his lip to keep from laughing as he tromped along the hardpacked path.

The farmhouse was modest and neatly kept, dark stained shiplap siding was topped with a weathered copper roof. A wide porch hugged the front and sides of the building and a cord of trimly cut timber was stacked to one side of the door. A makeshift ramp had been constructed over one side of the porch’s step, no doubt the work of Robin. Harvey knew he shouldn’t be, but it still surprised him sometimes how quickly word traveled in a place as small as Pelican Town. Unlocking the door ( _so they had a key, interesting…_ Harvey noted), Gunther held it open for Linus to push the wheelchair through and they all trooped in after him. Harvey was grateful to see that at least one of that gaggle had some common sense and had visited earlier to stoke a fire in the brick hearth which now warmed the building. Two chubby hound dogs, short-legged and long-eared, were baying with excitement at the sudden company and trying to jump on to the squat sectional that Mabel was now seated in. Obviously back in her element, Mabel was laughing and scuffling the dogs’ ears and hugging their necks. Linus had folded the wheelchair up and tucked it against the wall next to a pair of crutches. Marlon was bustling from the bedroom with an armload of quilts and Gunther was standing at one of the built-ins, a rapidly growing pile of literary selections stacked in one hand. Gil puttered in the tiny kitchen rummaging through the fridge, kettle heating on the stove. The familiarity with which they conducted themselves was apparent and surrounded by seeming chaos in unfamiliar territory, Harvey wasn’t sure what to do and so he stood self-consciously in the middle of the room.

“Oy, Doc, let’s get ye settled in,” Harvey started as Marlon addressed him.  
The older man had folded the quilts around Mabel on the couch and was now moving to pick up Harvey’s suitcase.

“Oh yes, thank you,” Harvey smiled tightly, snatching his bag away before Marlon’s grasp reached it, “Lead the way then.”

*

Now, days later, Harvey was still unpacked in anticipation of his return home. He was seated at a small desk that was tucked into the corner of the bedroom he was planning on vacating as soon as the chance presented itself. His new model, a 1/48 scale biplane bomber, lay on the table before him. He had meticulously sorted and categorized the pieces, a routine that provided a calm and reassuring sense of satisfaction, and was currently reviewing the color chart to ensure he had packed all the necessary acrylics prior to beginning the task of painting the individual parts. Harvey had been interested in planes ever since he could remember and after fate and genetics dealt him a raw deal in the vision department, building models was the only tangible way he had left of connecting with his now lost aspirations of flying. He had grown to accept his station in life. Not everyone could achieve their dreams. He quickly brushed his morose thoughts to the back of his mind, an action obviously well-practiced, and absently chewed on his thumbnail as he hunched over the manual, peering between the color-codes listed on the small pages and the row of small paint pots sitting at his elbow.  
_Hmm...it looks like they called for RAF Sky Blue here, but he only had RAF Azure Blue with him. Should he go ba—_

A loud clanging disrupted his train of thought. _What the hell was that?_ Before he could stand up, it sounded again-

**CLANGARANGARANGG**

_What the fresh hell was this?_

**CLANGARANGARANARANGGG**

Harvey hopped out of the desk chair and quickly trotted down the short hall. Mabel was seated on the sectional, covered in a quilt and two fat hound dogs. A large brass bell was in her hand, poised in midair for another teeth-rattling jangle.

“Really?” he demanded, torn between exasperation and amusement. “Where the hell did you get that?”

A smile cracked Mabel’s face and she looked very pleased with herself. “Marlon gave it to me before they left,” she replied. “In case I needed anything.”

_Of course he had._

Harvey grimaced. “This isn’t going to be a thing, this cannot be a thing.”

“Why not? I’m sick and when people are sick they need help and when people are sick and need help, they need a way to summon other people.”

He sighed. “You’re not sick. Your leg is broken.”

She shrugged. “Close enough.”

“No, not close at all,” he replied, striding across the room, “two completely different things.”

She shrank back, jerking the bell away from his outstretched hand and stuffing it under the quilt. “No way, I need this!” she insisted. “I’m basically an invalid, what happens if I have an emergency? I could die.”

Another sigh and he moved to the other side of the sectional in an attempt to get a better angle at the bell. “You’re not going to die,” he retorted, “That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

Harvey lunged toward the quilt and Mabel wheeled her body away, shoving the bell under the throw pillow that one of the still sleeping dogs was snoring on.

“You’re not here, you’re back there!”

“It’s still the same house, it counts.” He moved around the back of the couch, his upper body leaning over and stretching toward the pillow.

“It doesn’t count, how are you supposed to hear me over that stuff you keep playing?”

“ _That_ stuff? You mean jazz music?”

“Oh sure, music, I guess some people could call it that.” Mabel tucked the bell as far down as she could reach in the crack of the couch cushions behind her. She was at a disadvantage with just the one good arm to finagle with.

“ _Some people?_ You mean the civilized world?”

Mabel’s arm was now folded on top of her chest in a mock semblance of innocence and Harvey grabbed her wrist in one hand, holding it while his other reached behind her back and into the couch.

“Hey!” she sputtered, “no fair, taking advantage of an invalid! What about your hypocritical oath?”

Harvey groaned, then glowered at her, his hand still around her thin wrist. _Bones like a bird._ “Really? Hypocritical?”

She smirked.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Marlon.”

He dropped her arm and stood back up, the bell now clasped in his hand. “What do you want anyway?”

Mabel huffed petulantly then chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she had that Harvey had quickly picked up on. “I’m bored,” she pouted, “and I’m hungry.”

_Oh great._

Harvey ran his fingers through his shock of unruly dark curls. “I don’t cook.” He replied bluntly.

“Oh come on, everyone can at least make a sandwich.”

“I’m not your housewife.”

That made her laugh and the sound surprised him. It wasn’t melodious by any means, but it was uninhibited and carefree in a way that he hadn’t heard from her before.

“Harvey, come on, you’re always telling Jodi to stop shopping at Joja and about the importance of nutritious meals, let’s see it already.”

“How do you know what I tell Jodi or anyone else?”

She shrugged. “A girl knows things.”

He stood staring at her for a moment. The color hadn’t come back to her face yet. The daily rounds of antibiotics were hard on her stomach and left her looking thin with heavy circles under her eyes. Her long dark hair was pulled back into sloppy ponytail, bangs brushing across her forehead, and she was wearing an old sweatshirt, whatever its printed design had once been now long since washed and peeled away. Mabel looked back expectantly, her dark brown eyes bright in the hollows of her face. She quickly broke his gaze and stared down at her lap, hands fidgeting with the ears of one of the dogs.

“Fine. You look like hell. I can make spaghetti.”

“With garlic bread?”

“No. Just spaghetti. That’s all I make.”

“Okay, deal, I’ll take what I can get,” her gaze returned to meet his and she briefly beamed a smile before returning to her fidgeting with the hounds.

“I’ll be right back,” he turned and began walking toward the hallway again.

“What’re you doing now?”

“Getting rid of this damn bell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty happy with how this chapter came out, it was fun writing the dialogue for these two. Oh, Harvey!


	7. Things Are Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey goes out and Mabel stays in - both are up to something.

**-click-**

-click-

-click-  


Mabel lay on the couch flipping through the small range of television channels, propped up by an assortment of pillows. Her broken leg was elevated on a stack of cushions, “for circulation” as Harvey insisted. She honestly didn't mind it too much, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. Mabel had a difficult time being around new people. Eye contact made her uncomfortable and she was awkward and never knew the right things to say...despite this, she had quickly grown not only accustomed to Harvey’s presence in the house, but also to even enjoy it a bit. He was clever and funny, when he did talk to her at least, and she enjoyed teasing him much like a child would do to the one they have a secret crush on. She tried not to think about that, though the thought lurked in the back of her mind.

She huffed. Over a week in and she was getting restless. It wasn’t that she minded being home bound, she loved being at home so that wasn’t the issue, but it *was* different when you weren’t home alone. When you had a permanent guest sharing the house with you whom you were constantly aware of, that wasn’t the same and it was difficult to completely let loose and shut her guard down. She was restless, but she also didn’t necessarily want him to leave.

_Get it together, Mabel. You could at least make up your mind....make up my mind? There’s no way you’re attracted to that impossible man and it’s not like he wants to be here either._

She scowled at her wandering thoughts and violently smashed the button to change the channel again. A closeup of the homespun host from ‘Livin’ Off the Land’ popped up on the television’s small screen. _Ugh._  
This was one of her favorite shows, but it now only served as a reminder of all the things she could be doing with her time instead of being home bound and laid up in bed.

Mabel tossed the remote to the side with a sigh, twisting her body around as best she could in an attempt to shove her face into the down pillows around her. She lay still for a moment, face stuffed into the suffocating fluff of the pillow, her good arm idly scratching the furry butt of the dog next to her leg. A heavy tail gave an affectionate, slow thump.

She had adopted Bluto and Barney as litter mates, raising them from small pups to their now much more substantial size. The hounds were deceptively heavy and despite their stocky legs, the pair were not only nimble, easily running circles around Mabel if they weren’t inclined to come inside when she asked, but also stout- hound shaped missiles ramming against legs and knocking her down as they willed. They were a testament to her lack of disciplinary skills, but they made her happy. Her sun rose and set on the pair and they had spent several years together stuck in Zuzu City before making the trek to Pelican Town. Now the brothers enjoyed free rein of the farm’s property and despite being useless guard dogs, were quite adept at stirring up trouble among the local mole populations and rabbit colonies. When she brought the chickens home from Marnie’s ranch, she was anxious that the hounds might try their luck with an animal they could actually catch, but her concerns were unfounded. The only thing she had to worry about with the baby chicks was making sure one of the dogs didn’t accidentally roll over onto them while they napped in the coop together in the heat of the day.

Mabel groaned into the pillow as loudly as she dared. Harvey was still lurking somewhere in the back room and she was frustrated, but didn’t want him to actually hear her.

She casually wondered what he was doing back there. Her leg injury made mobility difficult and that coupled with her inherent shyness had made it impossible thus far for her to venture into his room. Mabel looked thoughtfully at the long row of tidy stitches that slinked down her shin. When Harvey mentioned that a metal plate was anchoring the leg bones together and would remain there, she had been surprised.

_She was sitting on the couch reading a book when Harvey entered the room. It was his first day on the farm and they were both still uncomfortable with the other’s presence. Harvey had just returned from feeding and watering the chickens and was now on his way to the kitchen to feed her dogs. She heard him open the pantry door and the rattle of kibble being poured into ceramic bowls._

_”They like yogurt in their food, it’s in the fridge,” she called out._

_He poked his head around the corner of the narrow galley kitchen._

_”They eat...yogurt?” His tone was incredulous.  
_

_“Well, yeah. It’s good for their skin. And have you ever tried plain dog food? It’s not very good.”_

_Harvey rolled his eyes and returned to the kitchen. Mabel heard the refrigerator door open, then close, and the sound of drawers being opened._

_”It’s the drawer under the coffee pot,” she mentioned helpfully, looking back to her book._

_”Got it,” came his curt reply._

_Harvey placed the bowls on the floor for the whining dogs, then exited to the living room. He stood there briefly, hesitating._

_”Er..do you need anything?” He asked._

_She glanced up, uncertain. She wasn’t used to making requests of people and wasn’t entirely comfortable with it yet._

_”No, I think I’m okay...” she trailed off._

_“What is it?”_

_”Well,” she started again, “I was wondering...”_

_“Wondering what?”_

_”When you have to take that metal out of my leg, how long does that take to heal? I know it’s still months away, but need to start planning for spring....”_

_Harvey’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “What? You, uh, you don’t have to get another surgery, it stays in there.”_

_”Oh!” an expression of understanding swept her face, but then quickly clouded again. She stared at him earnestly._

_”So.... I’ll be like a cyborg?”_

_He snorted. “Hardly. Cyborgs aren’t made out of basic metal. That’s the whole ‘cy’ part of it- gotta have that tech.”_

_Mabel rolled her eyes and gave a small shrug, “Well, close enough.”_

_“No, not close enough. They’re completely different things. You’re more like....” he trailed off briefly, then looked at her, smirking._

_Her heart thudded._

_“You’re more like the a Terminator. Metal bones.”_

_“Okay, whatever,” she shrugged, “Next time make sure to add some of those lasers for me, too.”_

Heavy footsteps in the hall interrupted her thoughts and she scooted to sit up straight as quickly as possible, making an effort to appear engrossed in the television show rerun. He appeared in the living room dressed in his heavy coat and carrying a small satchel.   
Harvey cleared his throat, “Um, I’m going out for a bit...do you, uh, do you need anything?”

Mabel continued to studiously watch the television set.

“No thanks,” she replied as casually as possible, though burning with interest at his sudden departure. _Where could he possibly be off to?_

Harvey shuffled his feet uncomfortably, clearly expecting her to say more. “Well...I’ll be back in a bit then. I laid out your next dose of antibiotics and pain meds on the table there and filled your glass,” he gestured toward the end table, “Call me if you need me, I won’t be more than two hours or so...” he trailed off again.

Eyes still glued to the television, Mabel afforded him a small, what she hoped was nonchalant, glance, “Okay than,” she replied dismissively. His cheeks were flushed and not from the warmth of the fireplace. Her suspicions were aroused. _A date maybe?_ She shook her head at the thought. _Who would he be dating? Obviously not Jodi, Robin, or Caroline- he doesn’t seem like the other man type...Abigail is probably too young, Haley too, though it’s possible he could be into—“_ her ruminating was cut short—

“I said I’ll see you later and don’t forget to take those pills...did you hear me?” Harvey repeated, annoyance ringing his voice.

She gave a quick shake of her head. “Oh, yeah, sure, see ya. I’ll take them now,” she reached over and scooped the handful of pills, washing them down with a swig of water. She opened her mouth wide, “See, down the hatch, done.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Okay, good. I’ll see you later, text if you need me.” He picked up his bag and quickly exited the farmhouse, a small gust of wind squeezed through the door in his wake.

———————————————

It was difficult maneuvering off the couch. Her left arm was still suspended in a sling from the broken clavicle and her right leg was encased in a rigid brace. Harvey had been adamant in his insistence that she put no weight on that leg while it was still healing, but did he have any idea how hard that was? Mabel heaved her body over the couch arm as far as she could reach, stretching for the crutches that were propped against the wall. Her fingers grasped cold metal and she dragged them to her. Using her arm for leverage, she slowly hauled herself up then snatched one crutch and propped it under her right armpit for support. She reached down to grab the other crutch.

_Ah, now she was standing. That’s more like it._

She tentatively placed weight on the injured right leg and immediately felt shooting pain scream upwards. _Okay, bad idea. Let’s not do that again for now._  
Mabel hobbled forward slowly, putting all the weight on her left leg and dragging the right behind her with the aid of the crutches. Making her way down the (what had up until now seemed to be a relatively short) hallway she leaned occasionally on the paneled walls for rest. Finally she reached the door at the end of the hall. There weren’t any locks on the knobs, so she knew she wouldn’t have a problem entering. She smiled smugly to herself.

Creaking the door slowly open, Mabel shuffled into the small bedroom that was now being occupied by Doctor Harvey Fitzgerald Palmer (she’d read it on his medical degree).

A dog wandered in behind her, snuffling new and unscented territory. “Shoo,” she scolded, “don’t go leaving your hairs around, you’ll give us away!” Barney payed her no mind and continued on his meanderings. Mabel slowly made her way into the bedroom, leg dragging. Harvey kept the door closed and upon entering, she was met with a distinct scent- the subtle tang of isopropyl alcohol, fresh wintergreen, and dark bitter notes of coffee. It was not unpleasant. She lurched forward.   
A leather suitcase lay on top the heavy wooden bureau near the door. Mabel opened the unzipped top, leaning it against the wall..

Inside, neatly folded, were a few items of clothing. She gingerly thumbed through them, cataloging sweaters, cardigans, and undershirts. An issue of ‘Plane & Pilot’ was tucked under the stack of clothing, beneath it a volume of ‘The Journal of Surgery’. Mabel grimaced. _Really?_ She carefully closed the suitcase lid again. She slowly continued forward, inching her way toward the room’s tiny desk. _Hmmm._ A scattering of plastic parts were in tidily sorted piles on the surface before her. She held the cardboard box to peer at the plane on the cover, then set it back down with a shrug. Mabel picked up each pot of the carefully aligned paints and inspected the neat labels on the jars, an assortment of letters and numbers. She huffed, setting them back down, careful to replicate the previous placement. _Is that English?_

She hobbled to the final corner of the room, a full size bed tucked into a nook and neatly made with a freshly laundered grey quilt and plump feather pillows. She sat down on the corner of the bed, feeling oddly wary, like she was overstepping her boundaries. _Which you are..._ she chided herself. Her good leg, crooked overtop the braced leg, jolted suddenly. Barney was standing underneath her hanging foot and scratching his rear end contentedly. She stifled a smile, still feeling that it was necessary to remain quiet despite the absence of anyone else in the farmhouse. Mabel leaned back, positioning herself against the fluffy pillows. They smelled like Harvey and she swallowed hard, forcing any warm feelings from her mind.

_This is merely a reconnaissance mission, nothing more..._

She sniffed the pillow again, somewhat guiltily. She was reluctant to admit her curiosity and pleasure. It seemed strange and wrong. _Was it wrong?_ But she liked the smell, the scent of Harvey that was washed over the room and its contents. She sighed, nestled against the soft quilt, dog rubbing at her foot. Things felt okay right now.

  
She heard a sharp knock at the door.


End file.
